Unexpected Company
by FeatherWriter
Summary: Life begins to return to normalcy in the Last City after Ghaul's invasion. When a fellow Warlock offers to purchase a bowl of noodles as a gesture of thanks for the City's savior, what begins as a simple meal quickly becomes far more complicated, as tangled acquaintances from the distant past emerge and a Guardian's will is forced to face the truth of her heart.


"Lady Restorer, please, may I buy you a meal?"

Sylvanni had to force herself not to grimace at the title as she looked up from the menu the waitress had just handed her over the counter. Ever since the City had been retaken, she'd started becoming a bit of a celebrity as Guardians and citizens alike heard the story of what she'd done. There were many impressive achievements over the course of her long second life, but none had netted her the same level of notoriety as defeating Ghaul.

They called her things in the streets now. Restorer. Light-bringer. Champion of the Traveler. Some of the more passionate had started using the epithet Red Breaker.

She still found the notoriety uncomfortable.

Still the man who'd walked up to the counter beside her had a kind air about him, someone grateful for her service to the City who wished to give a small token of his gratitude. He was a Warlock, like herself, if his robes were any indication. They were well-made, of a solid black with gold trim, hung with draping fabric and tied with cords.

He waved for her to enter the little shop before him, which she hesitated to do, as she'd originally planned to sit outside at the window counter. Still, he was buying her meal, and perhaps it would be nice to sit in an actual padded seat indoors rather than on a tall stool. He held the beads covering the doorway aside and she ducked into the depths of the little steam-shrouded shop, making for one of the booths.

"It's very kind of you to do this," she said as she slid into the booth.

He sat down across from her, having acquired a menu of his own along the way. "Please. It's an honor after everything you've done for us."

Sylvanni offered an empty smile at the compliment, placid and polite, because that was what one was supposed to do when a stranger said something nice. After weeks of attention, however, she was truly beginning to miss her anonymity. She could play the part of the heroic yet humble champion if that was what people needed her to be, but the mantle was too heavy and the mask of it chafed in its insincerity.

A part of her wished she could just go back to being herself, just Sylvanni Duv. Another part of her cruelly reminded her that she hadn't really known who that was anyway.

The waitress stopped by to take their order, an Exo with forest green plating in a short sundress. Conscious of the fact that she wouldn't be paying, Sylvanni ordered one of the less expensive noodle bowls, beef with scallions and spicy broth. Guardian hot, the kind that required Light-based healing to not damage one's mouth. A good dose of spice always helped clear her head.

Her companion's generosity continued, as he ordered not only noodles with chicken in a sweet peanut and kiwicumber sauce, but also a plate of steamed buns, no coriander leaves, presumably for them to share. As the waitress left, Sylvanni frowned as the order pulled up old memories.

He noticed. "I'm sorry, is that okay? I should have asked."

"It's fine," she said, waving off his concern. "I just used to know someone who ordered buns the same way. Made me think of them."

He folded his arms across the table in a relaxed posture. "I appreciate the chance to speak with you. I have heard stories of how you brought the Light back, each one more stunning than the last."

"To be honest," she said, nodding in thanks as the waitress brought glasses of water for the table, "I just held the gun. The Traveler brought itself back. Or perhaps something Ghaul did restored it."

He chuckled. "Forgive me if I don't thank _him_ with a bowl of ramen."

That pulled a smile from her. "Were you in the City during the fall?"

"No, though we felt it all the same. I thought it was the end of everything, losing the Light like that."

"I know the feeling." Sylvanni looked out through the curtain of beads, watching people pass outside. "He was right there when mine was taken. Ghaul, I mean. Zavala sent me to disable the flagship's shields from the inside and I was standing on the top deck as the cage constricted around the Traveler for the first time. Ghaul and his retinue just watched as I crumpled in pain, as my Ghost fell to the ground with a hollow clink."

Her dining companion seemed content to let her continue, and so she let her mind drift back to the terror and pain of those moments, putting herself back in the thick of remembrance. There was something meditative about it, experiencing the emotions from a distance.

"He seemed so dismissive, so utterly unthreatened by me as he walked up and kicked me across the deck. I barely felt it, even though I'm sure he broke bones. The pain of that just seemed so insignificant compared to the agony of having my Light ripped away from me.

"He said I needed to be reacquainted with the fear of death, then planted a massive foot against my helmet and shoved me over the side. I assume the last bits of Light I had saved me from the fall, because I woke up broken and beaten in the ground."

The other Warlock nodded along. "It's brave of you to have gone back to face him again after something like that."

Sylvanni pursed her lips. "I'm not certain I would call it brave, exactly. It was simply something that needed to be done, and I had Light, so I was the one to do it."

"Very humble of you," he said, shaking his head. "He mentioned that and yet…"

"Wait," Sylvanni said, frowning. "Who mentioned something?"

He was spared from answering her by the return of the waitress with their food, two steaming bowls and the plate of soft buns. Sylvanni eyed him, her intuition starting to make her suspicious, something familiar pricking her instincts.

Before she could say something, he nodded his head toward her slowly, an approximation of a bow. "It's been an honor speaking with you, Lady Restorer. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"You sound like you're leaving," she said, narrowing her eyes. Something golden flashed on his finger, a signet ring of a sun inside an eye that she hadn't noticed before. "Hold up, I _do_ know you! I've seen you in the Reef. You–"

"Thank you, Brother Vance," a smooth voice said behind her, "I can take over from here. Would you watch the street for us? I'd hate unexpected company."

Sylvanni's blood ran cold.

She wanted to scream, to run, to fight, to do _something_ , but she was so stunned she found she couldn't move. Once Vanguard, now exiled pariah, Osiris himself patted Vance on the shoulder as the cultist stood and slid into the booth seat across from her. He had picked up the chopsticks and was lifting the first bite of noodles to his mouth, watching her all the while, before she managed to find her voice.

The hissed snarl of words that finally escaped her would have impressed the Fallen. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

His mouth quirked slightly, trying not to smile. "Hello, Sylvanni."

He seemed utterly unperturbed, sitting in the middle of the City he had been explicitly forbidden to return to. Then again, he'd always had a way of seeming in control in any situation. It had made him a good leader during his time in the Tower, a handsome charismatic who drew followers like moths to a flame.

The problem had been, of course, where he'd chosen to lead them.

She was surprised—though she shouldn't have been—how _unchanged_ he seemed from his years of exile. For a moment, it was like no time had passed. They could have been back more than a century ago, with him, still the Vanguard, meeting up to talk about her research into the Ahamkara, or telling her about latest project he'd been working on. His smile was still kind, his sun-dark skin smooth, eyes as black and fathomless as the void. A dangerous kind of beauty.

"How did you get into the City?" she demanded.

He shook his head, _tsk_ ing softly. "Such an uninteresting question. There are many Guardians returning to see the Traveler reborn. It's a simple thing to stow away."

He, like Vance, did not wear the customary bright yellow robes of his order, but was instead clad in similar nondescript black with golden trim. Perhaps it would have made him noticeable to wear his own colors, but there were many among the Guardians who flaunted the gifts they'd won in his Trials, those who carried gifts from Osiris' followers as a trophy without truly understanding what they meant.

"The Traveler's rebirth didn't lift your exile," she said coldly. "The Vanguard will come down on you if they discover you here."

"Ah, the Vanguard are so fond of ignorance," he said, twirling another tangle of noodles around his sticks. "It would be cruel of me to disabuse them of it. They cast me out because I wished for knowledge. I must assume then, that they prefer things left unknown."

Sylvanni's brow drew to a hard line. "You were exiled because you threw away lives and resources at a time when they could not be spared and you know that. You let your selfish curiosity get in the way of doing what needed to be done."

"'Selfish curiosity?' What an interesting oxymoron." He watched her with that gaze that seemed to understand too much, to be able to see things better left hidden. Beneath it however, his smile was fond. "Dear Sylvanni. Ever dutiful. You have not changed."

"Unfortunately," she said flatly, "I must say the same of you."

He picked up one of the buns, holding it towards her before taking a bite. "You should have some. They're very good."

She ignored him. "What are you doing, Osiris? Sneaking into the City? Sending messages through the Vex networks?"

"I might point out that you were also in that Vex network."

She grimaced, feeling her confusion over this whole situation turn her stomach. "No, no, this is wrong. I shouldn't be sitting here talking to you. You shouldn't be here at all. I should call the Tower Garrison and have you arrested for breaking exile."

"Over a bowl of noodles? I wasn't aware a meal was such a threat to City security." He gestured toward her bowl again more insistently. "Please, it's just dinner. I promise I won't topple the infrastructure of the Tower or stage any violent revolutions from this noodle shop."

With a terse sigh, she relented, picking up her own chopsticks while glaring at him. "You're mad. But fine. One meal. Then you leave again."

"Very well." He seemed saddened by her hostility towards him, as if somehow he'd expected she'd be _pleased_ to see him. "You're quick to quote the Vanguard's rhetoric against me, but I cannot believe these things you say. We worked together for decades. Look me in the eye and tell me you think I'm the madman they claim."

She did meet his eyes, but she couldn't quite say it. There had always been something powerfully _manic_ to Osiris, but never _unhinged_. He believed everything he did deeply and ignored logic and common sense in pursuit of his goals, but the true threat that Osiris posed was not insanity, but rather a dangerous level of sanity.

It wasn't that he was manipulative, per se. It was simply that he understood people in a way that gave him the ability to make them listen. He connected with others in a way that made them feel important, that validated their thoughts and insecurities. He could speak with such passion that one couldn't help but start to see things his way.

That was something far more perilous than a lunatic.

"Fine," she admitted. "I don't believe you've lost your mind, no. But you insult me if you believe I'm simply parroting the Vanguard. My words and thoughts are my own, no one else's. You _are_ many of the things that they say."

The bun grasped in his chopsticks threatened to fly free as he gestured with that hand. "What threat do I pose to the Vanguard? I've attacked no one. I make no actions against the Tower. Guardians who choose to follow me do so freely, because they're tired of getting missions and targets instead of answers and truth. They understand that there is knowledge worth seeking beyond what you find at behind the trigger of a gun. They're tired of feeling more like a weapon than a person."

"No one's saying that knowledge is bad," she said, after finishing a bite of her own meal. The burning in her mouth was a mild counterpart to the burning frustration within. "There are things that are more important than answers! There are duties you failed to fulfill as Vanguard because you put your questions above everything else. And there are things out there, like your precious Vex, that are too dangerous to be used! The damage you'll cause far outweighs any meager benefit you might glean from it!"

A thought began to coalesce, like a matrix of data lattice branching from thin air. The more she spoke the more she realized what this was reminding her of. Osiris opened his mouth to respond, but she continued on, not letting him have a word in edgewise.

"You're… Osiris, you are an _Ahamkara_ to the Tower. You and your cult are that mysterious, distant thing that lures in the unwary with the promise of granting wishes and giving the answers everyone's always wanted. You are a temptation, a _seduction_ –" His eyebrow raised at her word choice and she instantly regretted it. "–a siren call that steals away needed fighters from the front lines. That is why you're a threat. Because of that, you must be stopped, just like the Ahamkara were."

He mulled that over for a long pause, not denying her accusations, but neither did he concede to them. Finally, he gave her a long, steady look. "Do _you_ still question? Wonder? I remember a newly-raised scholar, desperate to learn, fascinated by the world and its secrets. What happened to the woman I knew, that relentless seeker? What have they done to her?"

"She grew up, Osiris. She realized there were things more important than secrets. She stopped questioning and started _doing_ because there were things that needed to be done."

He shook his head slowly. "You may have convinced others here that you are this hollow creature of orders and laws that you pretend to be, but I don't believe you. You and I are birds of a feather, cut of the same cloth. You _think_ like I do. You question, and the questions haunt you, demanding satisfaction. You always have always been as I am, and you always will be. You cannot deny your nature, Sylvanni."

The words stung with a truth she'd long tried to deny about herself. That was the problem with Osiris: he'd always known her far too well.

"Perhaps you're right and I am like you, deep down," she quietly admitted, looking down at her bowl because it was easier to face than his eyes. "The difference between us, Osiris, is that I've learned that wandering curiosity is a weakness, something I shouldn't indulge."

His voice dropped quietly, as he slid a knife of words through her armor and plunged it deep into insecurity. "Don't you still wonder if we're _real_? Don't you still question if we are people chosen or _things_ created? Aren't you worried that your obedience is because It created you to obey?"

She stiffened, every existential doubt she'd suffered clawing at her, begging for acknowledgement, seeking to tear her apart. Her thoughts attacked her in the dark, empty hours of the night when there was nothing to distract her from them. And he _knew_ , because he was right, of course. She was the same, deep down.

"It doesn't matter," she said, gritting her teeth, as though doubt were something she could kill with force of will alone. "It doesn't matter if I'm a real person or a clever weapon. It doesn't matter if my obedience isn't a choice when the orders given are to protect people."

She swept a hand toward that beaded curtain and the City beyond, still looking anywhere but at him. "That, out there, is what matters. Saving lives, stopping our enemies, keeping the City safe. Nothing else. Not what I want, or what I feel. Not who I am or the things I still wonder. I will be whatever the City needs me to be. If all the Traveler needs is a weapon, then a weapon I shall be. Caring about anything else is indulgent selfishness. If my heart seeks to pull me astray with questions, doubts, wishes or dreams, I will _smother it_ until its insubordination is silenced."

He understood what she meant, and that was the worst part. He knew that when she spoke of her traitorous heart that the halcyon past between was the thing it longed for most. He knew that his allure was so much more than simply his ideals. He _knew_ and he sat there and looked at her with that sad gaze that she couldn't meet, lest his eyes convince her of what her heart could not.

He leaned forward—the table narrow enough between them to allow closeness—and it was a motion that she felt, more than saw, with her head still down.

"Sylvanni Duv, I believe you may be the greatest tragedy of my exile. To see a mind such as yours, locked away in blank, unquestioning service to them, to _It,_ is a failure for which I must blame myself. You deserve to think, to feel, to question, and to dream, and no one should have taken that from you. Not the Vanguard, not the Traveler, not even you yourself."

Before she'd sat down at this table she would have sworn that she was stone from her skin to her core, her insecurities locked away deep where they couldn't sabotage her. But now Osiris was shattering her walls, her prohibitions, her _self._ He'd done it centuries ago and he was doing it now. Never malicious, never manipulative, but so intensely earnest the words couldn't help but be compelling. He won souls because he made you see things his way.

It was why she'd been both heartbroken and relieved to see him leave the Tower in exile, hundreds of years ago: He was the most dangerous temptation she had, the thing she desired most to have and be and trust, and the thing which she could _never_ allow herself to have. His pursuit of his own ideas had nearly broken the Tower. She had sworn to herself that she would be stronger, that she would never become what he was.

Never let him turn her into the thing he'd longed for her to be.

And she knew, if she gave him an inch now, she'd give him everything.

Her confused nausea became a tangible weight in her stomach, and though she'd never had claustrophobia, she suddenly felt as though the walls of the shop were closing in on all sides. She needed to be away. It didn't matter where, so long as it _wasn't here._

She stood, suddenly, banging her hip on the table in her haste to free herself from the booth, speaking with an almost frantic desperation. "I can't… Osiris, I can't do this. I can't just pretend everything hasn't happened. I have to… You shouldn't have come. This was a mistake, and I'm leaving. I should have left the moment you appeared."

She took only two steps before his hand wrapped around her left arm like a second bond, holding her in place.

"Sylvanni, wait. Please."

She could have pulled free, kept going, run to the side of the railing and flung herself over just to feel the wind in her face and hope she would wake up from the resurrection and find that none of this had been real. But she hesitated, and damned herself instead.

"I didn't tell you why I came," he said softly. "You asked why I was here, and I didn't answer. Allow me that much at least."

His fingers might have been tongues of fire, flames eating through her sleeve, for the heat they brought to her skin. She could feel each finger individually. The whorls of his fingerprints would be burned into her skin, she was certain of it. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to break away.

She looked back, hating herself for it.

He was so beautiful in sincerity. "The Light. When it was suddenly ripped from us, I feared it could be the end. Yet you returned it. Every Guardian is indebted to you for it."

She shook her head, confused that he would come so far for something so simple. "What?"

"I came to thank you, Sylvanni Duv, for saving us all."

Their eyes met and she felt the moment upon her, her chance to pull away, to run and flee back to safety.

That moment passed.

Osiris pulled her gently forward and pressed his lips to hers. And she let him. She stood in that moment and kissed him, hearing the person she'd tried to be screaming in her head. He tasted of sunlight and salt, and as his grip on her arm relaxed, his other hand moved to cup the back of her head, keeping her close.

It was horrible, and it was bliss. The former Sylvanni, a silly girl from centuries ago with silly ideas about her handsome Vanguard, was resurrected within her again, just briefly, when that naive optimist should have been long dead. The current Sylvanni, the the logical pragmatist she'd built herself to become, wailed in silent agony that she was tearing down everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Decades of discipline, destroyed in one moment of emotional weakness.

But Traveler's _scars_ , how long had it been since anyone _held_ her?

For a few precious heartbeats, right and wrong fell away and she simply let herself _feel_ something, let her breath mingle with his, let her thoughts twirl aimlessly around nothing but the pleasure of the moment itself and nothing further than that. Duty, consequences, within that embrace, those foundational pillars of her life had no purchase on her and she floated on the ecstasy of it all _._

Reality though, was far too weighty to be held at bay by something so fragile as a kiss.

The pragmatist won the fight in her mind, the idealist struck down and locked away once more where she could cause no further damage. Just as quickly as the wonder of the moment had consumed her, crippling guilt washed over it, drowning everything. The nausea returned once more, now arm in arm with a new companion: disappointment in herself, that she'd succumbed so easily.

She broke away, the taste of him souring already, and pushed herself back, suddenly desperate for space between them. "Osiris, I can't… This was…" The steel mask began to slide back into place, the walls repairing, traitorous emotions executed for their treason. "This was a mistake. You coming here. Me not leaving the moment I saw you." Her heartbeat still pounded in her ears. "Nothing but a string of mistakes."

He didn't seem hurt by the words, though there was that twinge of sadness in his eyes again. He'd expected this, though he'd hoped for something different. She turned away, intending to leave before she could fall any further—before he could _drag_ her further down—but this time he caught her hand instead.

"Wait, before you go," he said calmly, pressing something small and metalic against her palm. "Take this. A symbol of my favor. That any of my order who see it will know you are to given every courtesy."

She gritted her teeth, not trusting herself to look back at him again. "I don't want your favor. Keep it."

"Please," he said, stepping close to her again. "For my peace of mind if nothing else." With his hand wrapped around hers, he folded her fingers around the little object. "It's a gift."

She snatched her hand from his, clenching it to a fist around the coin as she kept her back to him. "Leave the City, Osiris. Within the hour. Do not return."

A sad puff of a laugh escaped him, an amused resignation. "As you command, Lady Restorer. The journey begins with doubt, but ends with solace."

 _"Leave._ "

"It was good to see you again. Our paths will cross again soon," he said, still so casual about it all. "I'm looking forward to it. I think I'm going to need your help, though it's always hard to tell with things like this. Vex minds are, ah, how was it put? 'Not quite as intuitive as you might think.' But, then again, that's what makes these things interesting, isn't it?"

Sylvanni froze as she recognized the phrase—Cayde's words—from a conversation Osiris shouldn't have known about. Meeting again? She spun, a demand for an answer already on her lips.

There was nothing there but empty air.

The table looked lonesome. Two bowls, still slightly steaming, a plate of buns, half eaten, and a glimmer credit in the middle as payment. She stood, stunned. There hadn't even been a sound as he vanished, no telltale shimmer of a transmat field. A thought occurred to her, and she pushed her way to the front of the shop, emerging into the street. Vance, too, was nowhere to be found.

Guardians and civilians parted around her as Sylvanni stood in the midst of it, a stone around which the currents broke. The world continued on but she stood still, trying to make sense of what had happened, what it had meant. What it had revealed about who she really was.

No answers came, only further questions. The endless, dangerous questions, distractions that she couldn't ever fully banish. She'd gotten so good at keeping those in check, ignoring their call over the years.

Now she felt lost within them once more. _Of course_ , she thought, _that was what he wanted, wasnt' it? Osiris always gets what he wants._

 _Always._


End file.
